


Rescue Team

by crystalemi



Series: We Could Happen [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Anxiety Attacks, Enemas, Kidnapping, Light D/s, M/M, Multi, Subdrop, Tony Has Trust Issues, blowjob, more like fake kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalemi/pseuds/crystalemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper has Tony go on an exhausting tour of conferences to promote Stark Industries new eco-friendly products, but it's all fine, Steve and Bruce are on rescue team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue Team

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in the MCU, I'm nervous... especially because it started out as a bit of a joke and ended up in a mess of feelings and issues. Also, I deleted six pages at the beginning because they were boring, and all about how strange Stark Tower is without a Stark in it. The only thing I lost in the fire was the timeline setting so, just so you know, Tony, Steve and Bruce have been together for close to a year, post CATWA.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, english not my native language.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Tony’s walking down the hallway toward the men’s restroom, grateful he managed to convince Pepper that he truly has to take a leak and Happy that no one is trying to harm him, even though the concentration on fanboys and social climbers at this convention is higher than anywhere else they’ve visited up to this point.

Tony hates with a passion giving speeches to the scientific community because obviously everyone watched him with big amazed eyes, but no fucking one ever asked the right questions or probably even listened. He misses Bruce with a passion: his lovely insights and the way he questioned things, making Tony step aside from a second to look at their problem from another point of view. Since Bruce has come into his life Tony’s had more breakthroughs in cold projects than ever in his life, not to mention the amazing number of new projects he’s come up with in less than two years.

He bypasses the urinals and goes into the first stall of the restroom because the idea of sharing his private time with the bowl creeps him out - doesn’t matter he just needs to piss, he hates people in his bathroom time unless what they're doing involves the Jacuzzi.

He’s ready to start on his business when the door opens and closes and he quietly huffs. He’s not going to piss with someone else in there, even if the guy could beat Cap at stealth. There’s tap water running and a cramp around the place where Tony’s bladder is makes him remember he really does need to piss, but he waits, holding it in until he hears the door close again.

With a sigh he lets go, and once he’s done he wipes himself and tucks it back into his pants. He washes his hands twice, with special attention given to in between his fingers and wonders when this almost-OCD has appeared. It must have crawled up on him while he wasn't looking and now he's terrified of getting some strange disease from public restrooms. He makes to get out of the bathroom when he hears a step, but before he can look behind himself, he’s got a hand covering his mouth and a strong arm trapping both his arms against his torso. He tries to kick back, but the guy must be trained as he uses the shift of his body weight to his advantage and pushes Tony against the door, a knee pinning one of his thighs and in a swift move Tony has both hands trapped between their bodies. He struggles until there’s a calm shushing sound behind his head and it’s in Steve’s voice. He grunts loudly, affronted. The hand tightens its grip on his mouth, so he childishly licks it, but Steve just nips on the back of his neck.

Once Tony stills for a few seconds straight, the hand leaves his mouth and he’s roughly turned to face Steve - his knees betray him and turn to jelly as Steve manhandles him, because, _man_ , if he can do it well - so he’s not ready enough for the bruising kisses and the forceful “Missed you” and “God, so much” that leave Steve’s mouth every time he lets Tony get some air into his lungs - _obviously_ Steve doesn’t need to do such a peasant thing like slowing down to breath, of course. Tony’s so lucky he’s into asphyxiation, really, what with Steve and Bruce both able to hold their breath for minutes on end.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” he asks once Steve calms down, and with _here_ he means seven hours of jet away from Stark Tower, where he was supposed to be waiting for the one-month-long convention tour on renewable energy sources to be over.

“Kidnapping you, come on, Happy’s gonna be here in less than a minute.” He says, business-like, manhandling Tony toward a vent in the ceiling. He’s wearing his Captain America’s uniform, without his shield on his back and he’s acting as though that’s a legitimate extraction op, more than a fake kidnapping.

Tony shrugs and hops on Steve’s joined hands when he crunches down to help him get to the vent, which his large enough for him to comfortably crawl on his hands and knees, although his skin crawls at all the dust covering the metal walls. Steve follows him in and closes the panel behind him. The vent is spacious, yes, but narrow enough to make Tony’s breath laboured, as his mind teeters on the brink of an anxiety attack, and the complete darkness is almost too much. Steve clasps a hand on his sock-clad ankle and massages it loosely, while at the same time he lights a worker lamp he’s put on his heads and murmurs intelligible sweet nothings that end up calming Tony up anyway. They hear Happy call for Tony in the bathroom below him, then swear loudly and eventually leave them to go search the hotel. Tony feels more than hears Steve take a deep breath and does the same, realizing he has made himself dizzy by holding his breath almost the whole time. His heart is thumping wildly in his ribcage and the chronic pain in his chest is aggravated by that and deep breathing hurts more than it should. Steve’s still holding his ankle and tugs him gently, maybe to remind him he’s not alone. The hand leaves his ankle and half a second later the vent opens again.

Steve’s gone and Tony crawls backward and hops down, bearing himself in advance, as hitting the ground right now will hurt quite a bit, but he never does, because Steve grabs him mid-air and puts him down gently. He kisses him sweetly, but they don’t linger long as Steve’s tugging him toward the door, even before they break the kiss. Tony smiles a bit, a lot more in control of his mind. They get out of the bathroom and Steve helps him out of his suit jacket, which he throws as far as possible down the hallway in the opposite direction they take.

They run up the stairs, then to the other side of the upper floor and take the elevator to the roof. It must be a miracle, or Tony’s security team is really shitty and Happy’s been right all along about it, because they almost don’t meet anyone and they easily hide from one of the guys while running from the stairs to the elevator. When they reach the roof door and Steve struggle with picking the lock, Tony gets on his knee and picks it open, fast and efficient. He can see Steve’s pleased with him and he’s not sure whether he should feel offended or smug, but he preens under Steve’s gaze just in case.

On the roof there’s a brand new  _Starkopter_ and as soon as Steve closes the door behind them it takes off.

“So what’s the plan, Cap?” Tony asks, sitting down in the cockpit next to Steve, who’s leaving all the actual flying to JARVIS.

“Attack.” Steve replies, with a smug smile and Tony feels a bubble of excitement burst inside and has a hard time restraining himself from giggling. Steve smile grows wider and he pecks Tony on the lips, just before adding: “You’re such a nice hostage, I could get used to kidnapping you.”

Tony grins and pinches his biceps, then he replies: “Oh, I’m actually hoping I get to pay my own ransom in nature, Mr. Kidnapper.”

Steve laughs as JARVIS informs them they’re landing in five minutes.

 

They land close to a Stark jet, and next to it there’s a cheerful Bruce waiting for them, the Iron Man case clutched in his left hand, the other arm protecting his face from the strong wind the helicopter is making. He’s smiling that lopsided smile of his that actually means “I’m so excited I can’t barely restrain myself” as he’s too self-conscious to right out grin. Tony has no problem with that since he’s grinning enough for the both of them.

Tony’s hopping down the Helicopter almost before they land and then he’s walking straight into Bruce arm, kissing him hard, almost devouring him in his eagerness. Bruce isn’t fazed and kisses back with the same ardour, born from two weeks of distance and too few phone calls. Steve’s passes them, patting Tony’s ass on his way to the jet cockpit and sits on the pilot’s seat. Bruce takes off Tony’s tie and pins a registered message to it, leaving it into the helicopter, before dragging Tony into the jet. Steve starts the engine the moment they’re both inside and Tony notices they’re in an airport field. Tony can hear Steve get the go ahead for take off from the cockpit, so he sits next to Bruce and fasts both their belts. Bruce kisses him, slow and messy, probably in order to take his own mind off what’s happening as he’s always hated flying with a passion, and Tony happily obliges. When JARVIS announce they can unfasten their belts, Bruce ends up on his knees in front of Tony’s spread legs, swiftly removing his belt, which clatters noisily on the floor, then he’s nuzzling Tony’s cock through his pants.

“Don’t, dirty.” Tony says, self-conscious for once, but Bruce huffs and mumbles a “Don’t care,” that comes out a bit frustrated when he realizes that Tony’s pants have a hidden button on the inside. Once the pants are off and his boxers are around his knees, Tony plants his heels against the cushions Bruce must have put on the coffee table before they had come, and not long after Bruce is fondling his balls and kissing his spread thighs. If Tony has to be completely honest with himself, he’d rather turn around and have Bruce fucking him right there, possibly making a mess of the seat, but he hasn’t cleaned himself on the inside for almost three weeks. He’d rather avoid a real dirty stinky mess. As it is, he’s quite content of having Bruce suck him off – God, how great is it that he can hold his breath for a whole minute and counting? – and moaning like the slut he is, to make sure Steve hears him all the way to the cockpit.

Bruce is great at blow jobs and Tony loves how he sucks and hums around his cock all the while holding his head still and digging his fingers in Tony’s hips so hard there’ll be bruises later and basically fucks his own mouth at the rhythm he prefers. Tony feels used, almost like a human dildo, and that’s the best about it: it’s not for him, it’s for Bruce’s own pleasure and Tony would give Bruce the whole world if he asked – and that thought is both terrifying and exciting, tipping him over the edge of his orgasm. Bruce milks him dry, until he hisses in pain and lets him go, kneading his ass cheeks to relax the muscles and soothe where his fingers have dug in and bruised him.

Tony’s spent and happy, all the sleep he’s lost in the almost two weeks away from home creeps up on him and he’s only distantly aware of Bruce soothing words, the wet cloth cleaning him – he’s not even aware of his own pained hisses as sensitivity kicks in - but he’s aware of Bruce helping him up and into the bed hidden in a corner of the jet room. He’s asleep before his head touches the pillows.

 

“How’s he?” Steve looks up the moment Bruce enters the cockpit. Bruce pecks him on the lips and Steve’s a bit disappointed his breath smells of toothpaste. They’re both aware Steve’s sitting in the cockpit to soothe Bruce fear of letting an A.I. drive a jet unsupervised, but Steve is just happy to help – and he’s gotten his licence at S.H.I.E.L.D. just before it shut down, so he’s glad to learn from Jarvis more tricks.

“Out.” Bruce says as he sits down. Steve can read in his too controlled movements that he’s angry, but he’s not sure he wants to talk him through it, as he doesn’t really feel like throwing the Hulk out of the jet. Apparently Bruce is calmer than he looks because he admits to it on his own.

“Pepper better not cross path with me for the next three centuries.”

Steve hums in approval. He thought Tony was just exaggerating when he whined about not enough restroom pit-stops and too many parties and hardly enough sleep or science. When they had seen the schedule he only kept his composure because Bruce was having a hard time keeping his.

“I can’t believe it, she's supposed to have his best interest at heart, last time I checked she actually was the one keeping him alive and now this.” Bruce goes on, anger bubbling right under the surface, so Steve puts a hand on his thigh, gently stroking him through his slacks.

“I’m just glad we got to him.” Steve murmurs and Bruce covers the hand stroking his thigh with his own as the only reply. The engine’s purring is the only noise for a while.

 

Tony wakes up because something is not right, and he realizes that what's missing is the purr of his engine. They’ve landed, where he has no idea, but he hardly cares. He just wishes Bruce and Steve were around instead of who knows where doing who knows what. As if someone was listening to his inner whining, the door opens and Steve crawls on the bed and kisses him on the cheek.

“Did I sleep for seven hours?” He asks and Steve shakes his head.

“Nope, we’re in Malibu… want something to eat?”

Tony relaxes on the bed, Steve’s sitting on his heels, thighs slightly spread to balance him out. He looks tired but happy, which is exactly how Tony feels. He’s not exactly hungry either, but he nods, since he knows that Steve won’t be pleased if he refuses to eat, even though Tony’s eaten more in this couple of never-ending weeks than in his whole life. Steve smiles and lies down next to him. His hand sneaks to Tony’s nape and gently plays with the hair there.

“What’s the plan for today, Cap?” he asks, but if he could, he’d purr. Steve smiles and shrugs.

“We were thinking pizza on the couch and then bed.” He says and then quickly adds: “To sleep.”

Tony smiles, he doesn’t think he has it in him to have much straining sex, that's probably a first, and there’s hardly any slow and relaxing sex when it comes to Bruce and Steve. It always tends to get messy and glorious, even when they set out for hot and slow under the covers. He can’t believe he’s actually complaining about it, but he’s not really sure he’d be up for sex at all tonight. Although there’s something he’d like to get over with.

“I need to take a enema.” He admits, feeling a blush creep up his neck. Steve looks at him with confusion and Tony can’t wait for him to formulate his question, so he answer right away:

“A retention enema.” Steve’s pretty lips form a small ‘o’ and when he exhales he breathes out a almost soundless “Oh.” He blushes and if Tony wasn’t blushing harder he’d coo at how cute Steve looks when he gets embarrassed.

“Do you need help?” Steve asks and Tony isn’t sure if he’s asking out of some misplaced sense of duty or if he’s genuinely offering help. He decides he doesn’t really care, as long as he’s not alone. He doesn’t think he can do it alone tonight.

“Just company.” He murmurs and Steve smiles shyly then crawls back to the door and bumps into Bruce, who must have come to see what’s taking them so long.

All three of them get up and get busy with something – Tony explores his house looking for malfunctions, Bruce busies himself with ordering food and unpacking their suitcases and Steve is on the phone, apparently arguing with someone that is probably Natasha about kidnapping Tony and legal matters.

When the pizza boy comes, Tony gives him a tip of almost fifty dollars because he feels happy and the guy was fast in delivering. They eat on the couch, making a mess and exchanging slices like teenagers. For half a minute Tony’s envious of Steve’s coke, but the reasons he’s not having one too keeps him happy enough. He’s probably already going to pay for the pizza, anyway. Sometimes messy cheesy – literally – kisses are exchanged and Tony takes immense pleasure in robbing Steve of pepperoni slices but has to fend off Bruce a couple times as he’s after his red peppers.

They watch the news and there’s a last hour on Tony being kidnapped and they laugh hard enough it hurts when there are speculations on Hammer having something to do with it. Steve switches channel when they start speculating on terrorist cells in the USA because they don’t want the mood dampened, but Tony’s the first to joke around and call them terrorists and fugitives. Which they both were at some point in life, so it does sound crazy.

Clint calls after Natasha and Thor fill him in and he’s absolutely stunned and tells them just how amused Phil is even if he tries to look disappointed and angry every time someone mention the thing on the telly. They say good night when Clint has to go and have lunch – he can’t tell where he is, so they’re not sure if that’s a lie or not, but let it slide. Tony awkwardly realizes he missed all of the family, not just Bruce and Steve, and Steve shyly tells him Stark Tower is lonely and hauntingly with no Stark in it. Bruce pets Steve, rewarding him for saying such a thing, as they still have issues with talking frankly about feelings. Tony kisses languidly both of them and for a long while they lounge in the living room, trading kisses that taste of cheese and pepperoni and grilled veggies with spices and a hint of bacon. Tony with every kiss feels the tension of being apart slowly leave him. He doesn’t like to admit it, but since he finally gave up drinking he’s gotten addicted to Bruce and Steve.

And enemas, which brings him to faking nonchalance and telling Bruce of his night plan, a few minutes after they’ve brought empty cans, glasses, and pizza boxes into the kitchen.

“Yeah, okay, coffee?” it’s his only answer and Tony nods, relieved. He goes into his en suite bathroom to prepare it for the enema. It upsets him how much his life has changed since he moved definitely into the Tower. Back at home he has a hook in the wall inside the bathtub, not the Jacuzzi, he has a bathtub designed especially for making the whole process easier, he keeps the bag out all the time, and there’s a compartment devoted to holding the rest of the kit.

Here there’s alcohol hidden in one of the bathroom compartments and there’s a minibar now empty that used to hold champagne from France, sparkling wine from Italy and vodka from Russia. It’s a bit sad looking now, all empty, a part of a life that is not his own anymore. He doesn’t miss it, he believes he's become, if not a healthier person, at least a better one. Of course, he wasn’t planning on getting addicted to enemas when he started out, but it isn’t such a surprise considering his tendencies.

He folds various towels on some tiles of the bathroom floor, deciding that both the shower and the Jacuzzi are way too far from the bowl. He’s too tired to drill a hole in the wall for the hook, so he goes down to the workshop and comes up with a metal stand he places close to the towels on the floor. He hooks up the empty bag, connects the hose, and lays out on the towels a rectal tip and almond oil.

Tony sits on the floor and tries to wait calmly for Bruce and Steve to come in for a total amount of ten seconds before he gets up again and undresses, debating for half a minute whether waiting to take off his boxers or not is a good idea. He ends up naked and puts his clothes in the laundry bin. He empties his bladder, goes to the basin and carefully cleans himself, grimacing at all the hair on the crease between thighs and pubis that have regrown from his last wax; after, he dries himself and sits down on the towels again. A minute later he sighs, feeling anxiety knot in his lower abdomen, so he gets up again and checks that everything’s in order – the only missing thing is the coffee Bruce is supposed to make – then checks for toilet paper and leaves open the toilet bowl, he washes his hands and lubes the anal tip with the oil and puts the bottle on the sink. He’s about to check again, because if he stops he’ll start thinking that he’s never shared this with Bruce and Steve before, and what will they think?, is it too personal?, is it too soon?, maybe it’s not a good idea, what the hell am I thinking?, what am I even doing? and he’ll chicken out of it – when Bruce comes in without knocking, holding a cup of coffee and Steve’s behind him, holding more towels and a pillow, which he dumps on the towels Tony’s already laid.

Steve is as red as a tomato, even though it’s something he does regularly too, while Bruce is wearing his professional aura like a second skin, which, Tony realizes, is soothing his anxiety back to mild embarrassment.

“Do you mind me helping?” Bruce asks with a hint of a smile, and Tony takes a deep breath before shaking his head. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what he wants, he reminds himself.

It’s all new and as he lays down on his elbows and knees he briefly wonders if maybe he shouldn’t use this position, but then he remembers this guys have fucked him multiple time _in this position_ , so there’s nothing they haven’t seen, or touched, or licked before, really. Steve especially loves rimming, so he shouldn’t get even redder and shift around uncomfortably, but he does and Tony hides his face against his arms, what he can’t see, can’t hurt him.

Bruce however is mixing coffee and distilled water in a measuring cup Tony forgot to fetch and Tony finds himself shifting to watch how careful he is.

“How much can you usually take?” Bruce asks him when he gets to a litre of solution.

“That’s enough.” He murmurs. Bruce smile and puts away the remaining 250ml.

Bruce, then, kneels down behind Tony and chastely kisses a bruise he’s left that afternoon on the jet before spreading one of Tony’s cheeks. Steve shuffles close and takes hold of the other cheeks, spreading him wide open. Bruce gently thumbs at his hole, teasing him and Tony can feel himself start to get hard.

“You need to relax, Tony.” Bruce tells him and Tony does his best to unclench his muscles, but he only manages when Bruce lets go of his cheek to oil the tip again. Steve shuffles behind him and nuzzle his hole, making Tony choke on his saliva and leaning up half scandalized half ready to jump him. The only answer he receive his a string of butterfly kisses that go from his ass to his ball and lapping on his perineum.

He leans back down on his elbows when Steve scuttle away to let Bruce proceed.

It’s not the first time Tony gets breached by a anal tip, and it’s not by far the first time Bruce has put something in his ass, but this time, something clenches in his stomach and a low panicked moan leaves his mouth before he even understand what’s just happened. Bruce massages the rim clutching against the anal tip, and that’s how the last inch gets into Tony.

“Let us take care of you, babe.” Bruce murmurs in a soothing tone, his usual uneasiness completely gone. Tony answers a tiny “Okay.” At the same time Steve’s hands finds his way in Tony’s hair and he pets him slowly while he mumbles sweet nothings.

Tony realizes how much he’s relaxed only when the first gush of warm water splashes his insides and he tense up.

“Too cold?” Bruce asks gently, having already stopped the flow. Tony shakes his head and relaxes again. It takes less than he expected to calm down as the flow of water is comforting, heavy in his belly like a known and soothing presence, one that for once isn’t going to kill him. He feels safe and younger, well taken care and sleepy.

A few light cramps make him grimace but Steve gently massages his abdomen and then the flow stops for longer than a few seconds and Tony realizes he’s being moved on his right side, gently and carefully, in order not to jostle the hose inside him of freak him out. All the while Steve mumbles encouragements and compliments.

The flow starts again and he feels the solution do its job and his muscles respond to the stimuli accordingly. He doesn’t have any more cramp but Steve keeps massaging his belly and Bruce carefully lets the clasp open for longer periods of time, until Tony has to stop them because he’s absolutely sure he’ll puke if they keep going so fast – which is not fast at all, it’s just that he had the wonderful idea of eating before the enema, but Bruce still stops the flow and Steve falls silent, while his hand keep a feather light touch on Tony’s low abdomen. Tony’s conflicted into keeping his ass ring of muscle well clenched to avoid any incident, or let go in order to stop the nausea. In the end Bruce guides him into relaxing and the flow starts again and then stops and Bruce is setting the kitchen timer on thirteen minutes and telling Tony he’s doing great and he’s taken it all, and he’s so good for them both, and now he has to keep it all in as he’s going to remove the hose.

He does and Tony gasps and clench as he feels a bit of liquid escape, he’s sure he’s in a state of mind he’s almost never been before because he doesn’t feel humiliated, he’s just scared of disappointing Bruce and Steve. Bruce is running his fingers through Tony’s hair, while Steve’s hand left his belly in favour of his side and it’s stroking him gently but purposefully.

Tony breathing is shallow and he’s aware to be half hard but he can’t feel embarrassed to save his life, all he can feel is loved and taken care of. No one and nothing could have predicted that sharing an enema could make him feel this safe and close to someone else.

He keeps the solution in with some effort at first, but slowly he feels the pressure change and his body starts truly reacting to it. There are no bowel movements at first, so he knows he has to keep it in, but it becomes harder by the minute, until Bruce is asking him if he’s okay, if he’s having bowel movements or cramps and Tony shakes his head, mumbles “I’m fine, I can take it.” And starts breathing slowly. Then his body gets used to it and Tony can sigh in relief as the discomfort is almost null. It’s then that he reaches out for Steve's hand on his side and intertwine their fingers together, all the while leaning into Bruce touch.

He hears Bruce and Steve talk from afar, the whole room feels shifted or submerged in water, but he always hear his name like a trill that takes him back to his lovers, who sometimes ask questions on his well-being. He can’t really remember what he answers but they’re pleased and nothing hurts, so he must be doing okay.

There’s no trill from the oven timer yet, but the pressure comes back twice as hard and now Tony knows for sure he won’t be able to keep it in for any longer. He remembers he wanted for Steve and Bruce to leave for this part, but he can’t remember why, so he doesn’t say anything and slowly stands up not to jostle himself and leak out. Some of it escapes and Tony bites his lower lip hard, clenching his muscles harder, until he’s standing and the bowel movements are too strong and he absolutely has to sit down.

Someone, probably Steve, but he’s too busy and impatient to truly check, helps him to the bowl and he sits down and his body, almost against his wish, lets go. Tony chokes on a sob and suddenly remembers the humiliating part of the enema, the one part that makes him feel like he’s coming clean, not only of any residual toxin or digested food, but also of his own big ego. There’s something humiliating and humbling that has him addicted to this kind of twisted sense of forgiveness, but he’s not sure this part he should have shared at all.

He’s not sobbing – God knows the first time he outright cried – but Steve still stand next to him and holds his hand in his own, making it worse and better all together and Tony just doesn’t know what to feel anymore.

Later he resurfaces slowly. He’s still sitting on the bowl, breathing laboured and eyes stinging. Bruce is giving him his back, while thoroughly washing his hands at the sink, calm demeanour and peaceful air. Steve just flushed the toilet and his breathing is as laboured as Tony’s, he whines a bit and Tony suddenly recognizes he's been lost in subspace. With that realization another comes to shock him to the core: he has just come up from subspace.

He feels the panic skirting at the edge of his consciousness and he makes a broken sound (a humiliating mewl) that has Bruce back at his side in the blink of an eye. He lets him talk him through it, but all he can think is just how vulnerable he’s been all this time and what if they betrayed him? What if the used it against him, what if they use it in the future against him?

He’s hyperventilating by the time he hears Bruce talk about that experiment they were working on a month before, just before Pepper waltzed in to tell him about the whole month of scheduled meetings and dinners and parties and lessons and conferences, and it’s about vibranium, about making more and testing it against the Hulk. It was working to calm him down, but then he recalls he has vibranium in his chest and it wouldn’t be the first time someone betrayed him while vulnerable and he’s been vulnerable for so long, and the last time he hadn’t been in control of himself he almost died…

Then Bruce is talking about something else, he’s talking about Stark Tower, he’s telling him about some neon gas that can make things turn purple, and he thinks about the penis shaped glowing lamp they gave Clint for his birthday and he asks himself if he can make a penis shaped glowing lamp the size of Stark Tower. He starts thinking about statistics and how much energy it’d need to light up and his brain is suddenly building a penis shaped purple glowing lamp in the middle of Manhattan.

He breathes in, he’s fine.

He’s not broken, he’s not dead, he’s naked and still in one piece, he trusts this people, they’d wipe out the universe before betraying him.

He’s good, he’s breathing.

He can do this.

Bruce is breathing too, he’s relieved, and Steve is still alarmed, but understands everything is going to be fine.

He hears himself say he’s sorry, and he really is. He ruined such a great experience just because he panicked like some stupid messed up kid. Bruce tells him it’s okay, they’re all fine, no one’s dead so it’s not bad. Of course Bruce would tell him so, he’s Bruce. Unless someone’s actually dead everything is always fine, according to him.

He stands up, aware that Bruce has wiped his ass – he grows impossibly red and almost hyperventilates again – and wobbles toward the pair of boxers Steve must have brought with him together with the pillow and towels. He’s still unstable on his legs, but he manages just fine and finally turns to look at Bruce and Steve.

The first is waiting in the middle of the room, steady and comfortable in his position, while Steve is gone back to kneeling on the pillow next to the towels and doesn’t look ready to get up anytime soon, although his breathing is back to normal.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” He says out loud.

“Yes, you are, you were good.” Bruce says, Tony’s almost asking “only good?” when he adds:

“More than good, you were perfect.”

Something in Tony snaps and he’s suddenly exhausted, but also warm inside, satisfied, so much he could cry. He’s good, he’s perfect, he’s enough.

Steve gets up, offers a hand that Tony gratefully takes – he could scream it to the world: Tony Stark is good enough, if you don’t think so, fuck you, because Bruce said he’s perfect and Bruce is always right – and they walks out the door of the bathroom and get under the covers, while Bruce seems conflicted about leaving the bathroom the mess they’ve made it. Joining them apparently win, as he orders Jarvis to turn off the light and he comes to stand beside the bed and take off all his clothes. Steve’s doing so from under the covers, not out of shyness but because he’s constantly cold and doesn’t fancy getting naked at all.

So Tony ends up getting sandwiched between two heaters and Steve huffs out he wants to do that too when they go home. Tony surprisingly wants to do it again too. Subspace included, but possibly not this week again. Maybe next week, maybe they can make it a habit. He can grow used to being called perfect by someone that means it and doesn’t only want to get in his pants (he already does) or steal his money (he doesn’t need to).

Steve’s asleep, and Tony is almost there too, but as usual his body is dead to the world while his brain is still too active and only starting to slow down, when he hears it. It’s a whisper that almost makes him cry, something he’s actively aspired to hear all his life and never achieved. He knows Bruce’s telling him only because he think he’s asleep, but it still almost brings him to tears.

“I’m so proud of you, Tony…”

Tony’s never slept better.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so, so sorry. It started easy and stupid and it ended just stupid. I have no idea how this happened or why, I’m just sorry it did.  
> Two notes: first and foremost, I have taken enemas years ago after a surgery (tmi I know) but it was in a hospital with a nurse and it was the most humiliating experience of my life. So, most of what i wrote in here is from the internet, and I hope it’s not too wrong. I still tried to leave it as close to my experience as possible, especially on the physical reactions and feelings. By the way, yes, enemas can be addictive but they’re not harmful as long as they’re kept safe and balanced. Tony personality is addictive, take out the booze he was going to find something else, I figured this was it. It comes from headcanon that he was too self-conscious about bottoming at first because he felt “dirty” inside and therefore started cleaning himself and made it part of his daily routine.  
> Second note: In my mind Bruce is a Dom, Steve’s a sub and Tony’s a switch. I tried hard not to have this influence this story but in the end, it worked well as Tony’s first sub drop. The panic attack was due because Tony is Iron Man and Iron Man is Tony.  
> Hope it’s not too confusing! Concrit is forever loved and needed, don’t be shy!


End file.
